Before & After
by BeneathTheUmbrella
Summary: A series of vignettes showcasing various moments—both pivotal and the mundane—at different points in Ted and Tracy's lives.
1. Wonderful

_I was watching a rerun of "False Positive" last week and the idea for this story came to be. An early Christmas present for you all, I guess! This series will be about 5 or 6 vignettes in the life of Ted, and I'm very excited to write these. I hope you all enjoy.  
><em>

_Oh, and that last line isn't supposed to be morbid in the slightest—this series still falls into the same happily-ever-after universe I've already created in my other stories. It's simply a line from _It's a Wonderful Life_._

_N.B.: All quotes from _It's a Wonderful Life_ belong to the late Frank Capra._

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><p><em>2010<em>

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><p>Ted walked into theatre alone, smiling to himself as his friends were off at his urging (well, his insistance) making the right choices in their lives. He was happy to help solve their problems; Ted was Mr. Fix-It, after all.<p>

Good ol' reliable Ted Mosby.

He grabbed a seat in the semi-crowded theatre, his favourite: smackdab in the centre. He peeled off his coat and sat back with a happy sigh, kind of wishing he still had his movie snack.

As the movie began, he watched the familiar tale—a film he watched two or three times each holiday season—unfold, watching George Bailey sacrifice his own happiness for the benefit of others. Not that Ted was as selfless a man; but he thought back to the moment earlier outside, as he helped solve everyone's problems. He was happy to do so, but who was there to solve _his_ problems?

Ted had good friends, he knew. They cared about him; they loved him; they were there for him. He truly couldn't ask for a better group of friends, whom he considered closer than his own family. _"Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends."_

But he couldn't help but think about his own life, his own growth, his desire to move forward. There was a void in his life; sure, he had his job, he had his pending building, he had his health... But the one thing he yearned for the most—love—was something that kept on eluding him. And it was depressing.

Not in a jump-off-a-bridge kind of way, of course. But in that I'm-going-to-die-alone fear, which hits him every once in a while, whenever a first date doesn't lead to a second, or when he hears of someone he knows getting married or having a baby. It's so easy to get despondent when he thinks of his happily-ever-after that may never come.

But there are good days, such as now. The holidays make him wistful, but still pretty happy and optimistic. There's something in the air—the cold, the glowing lights, the general feeling of joy and merriment—that gives him hope.

_"What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."_

Ted smiled. He was still looking for that person he'd do something crazy for, like lasso the moon. He'd done the Blue French Horn, the two-minute date, the acts of a desperate, lovestruck man.

He now wanted to be crazy-in-love again; for good this time. He didn't know when she'd appear in his life or how, but watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ is putting him in a good mood, allowing him to remain positive about what was ahead for him.

Because he knew what his world was like without his future Mrs. Ted Mosby, whoever she was. And life could only be a whole lot better with her by his side.

All he had to do was be patient. Like George Bailey, Ted Mosby would eventually get his due.

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><p><em>2014<em>

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><p><em>"Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for."<em>

Ted grinned as he reached down for his Christmas movie snack, snapping a piece of gingerbread off from the roof and shovelled it in his mouth. He loved this scene, Mary and George spending their wedding night in the old, run-down house on Sycamore Street. It made him think of his house in Westchester, the disaster it was before he got his hands on it. The dreams he had for it, all the work he put into it, now knowing it wasn't all in vain. But while watching the movie, he knows it takes more than just floorboards and new windows and running water to turn a house into a home.

In the darkened theatre, he peered over at Tracy sitting next to him. Her gaze was settled on the screen, and Ted looked down at her hands, which were protectively cupping her belly, her engagement ring sparkling. She was barely four months along in her pregnancy, and was only slightly showing. But the bump was there, at it was most discernible when she was naked, Ted running his fingers across her skin, tenderly rubbing the Palmer's oil on her stomach, which she hoped would prevent any stretch marks as the months went by.

It seemed she had sensed his eyes on her, and she turned around to look at him. She gave him a sweet grin and snuck a hand to the gingerbread house, peeling off a couple of gumdrops and popping them in her mouth, before the hand instinctively went back to her belly.

_"You could've married Sam Wainright, or anybody else in town..."_

_"I didn't want to marry anybody else in town. I want my baby to look like you."_

_"You didn't even have a honeymoon. I promised you... your what?"_

_"My baby!"_

_"Your, your, your ba— Mary, you on the nest?"_

_"George Bailey Lassos Stork."_

Ted was often amazed at where his life was at right now: an amazing fiancée and a baby on the way. Many years of missteps and heartbreak had left him vulnerable and insecure. He had often been hopeful, yes; his belief in destiny and true love sometimes wavered, but he had always bounced back.

And it was meeting Tracy, that moment under their yellow umbrella, which changed Ted's life in an instant. He couldn't quite believe it, that he was the guy that she chose to be with for the rest of her life. It was quite humbling.

"How could I _not_ choose you?" she teased him once, as they lay in bed on a rainy Saturday afternoon, right after they had said "I love you" for the first time. And right after he had expressed his amazement that he got to be the lucky sonofabitch who got to be with her. "That adorable, hopeful look on your face right before I kissed you on our first date was hard to resist."

Ted smiled at the memory, at how that date could've gone a whole different way if Tracy had chosen to let him walk away that night. Happiness was a series of choices and risks: Ted made a choice to talk to her that night on the platform. Tracy made a choice to kiss him on their first date. And it was these choices in his life—both the wrong ones and the right ones— that led to the woman at his side.

He reached a hand over and placed it on her belly, her own hands moving to cover his, fingers now entwined. They continued to watch the movie happily.

They exited the theatre at round 9:30, a heavy snowfall descending down to earth, covering Tracy's hair like a beautiful white wig. She dusted the flakes off and put on her hat, pulling it down low to cover her ears.

Ted tightened his scarf and reached for Tracy's hand, gripping it tight. His fiancée laughed at the gesture. Yes, reaching for one another's hand was always habitual—like breathing or blinking—every time they were out for a stroll, but things had changed since Ted found out she was pregnant... and that her pregnancy would be taking place in the winter.

He had gotten increasingly protective, starting with the day the first snowfall hit earlier that month. He'd started hooking his arm protectively with hers every time they walked together, bought crampons for her boots, and requested she'd text him every time she safely made it to her destination. Ted had this irrational (Tracy's words—he thought he was being quite rational) fear that she'd slip and fall on a patch of ice.

Tracy, of course, would have none of that.

"Ted!" she had cried exasperatedly after he expressed his worries for the billionth time. "I've been walking for 29 years! I _think_ I can manage getting from point A to point B all by myself!"

"Hey!" he countered, waving her new crampons in his hands. "You and the baby are precious cargo! I just want you both to be safe!"

Tracy smiled softly at his words, despite her annoyance. "Babe, it'll be fine. Many pregnant women have trudged through Manhattan's wintry streets before me, and have done it successfully. I'll be fine—nothing will happen. You just need to lay off a bit, huh?"

Ted sighed and moved towards her, pressing his chest to hers. "Sorry. First-time dad jitters," he admitted. "I'll ease off, I promise. But can you _please_ at least wear the crampons? For me?"

She conceded.

"I spoil you, y'know," she said with an amused shake of her hand, taking the darned crampons from his hands and giving him a kiss.

He still worried, of course. When she's out shopping or on her way to work or out with the girls. Or, when she'd get bigger and her belly would become more cumbersome, would some asshole refuse to give his seat up for her on the subway? But he never underestimated her; she was tough. She was careful. And she always arrived safely to their apartment at the end of the day.

"So do you wanna grab a bite to eat?" she asked him now, looking up at him eagerly.

He stared at her. "We just devoured a _whole_ gingerbread house between the two of us," he pointed out, amazed at the new relationship she had with food. "You're still hungry?"

"That gingerbread house hardly counts as dinner! Besides, I'm eating for two now."

Ted laughed. "I think "eating for two" doesn't mean what you think it means," he teased. "But sure: let's go eat."

"Yay!" she cried out excitedly, practically hopping in place. "Wanna go to that Scottish-Mexican fusion place? We never did end up trying it out."

"I thought those were two things that didn't quite fuse..."

"Hey, as someone who now finds pickles with peanut butter _delightful_, the thought of Scottish-Mexican is making my mouth water."

"Ok," Ted gave in. "But if the haggis enchiladas don't mix well with all this gingerbread and candy in my stomach, _you'll_ have to be the one to rub _my_ back while I'm hunched over the toilet bowl tonight."

She gave him a loving smile. "Anytime, pooh bear."

They continued to walk, enjoying the pre-Christmas atmosphere of the city. The lights were twinkling, the snow was falling, people were walking past them with shopping bags in their hands. It was their favourite December ritual, leisurely roaming the streets of Manhattan, as well as dreaming of their future that included a baby boy or girl to eventually experience the holiday with.

As they were walking, a patch of ice on the sidewalk lay hidden underneath the newly-fallen snow, and Ted felt Tracy slip on the ice. They were both quick to react, Tracy finding her footing and gripping on to his jacket, whereas Ted's hands were immediately at her waist.

He was holding her up, and she was dipped slightly backwards. It would've been quite romantic if it weren't for Ted's heart that was beating wildly from anxiety. He looked down into her eyes; she didn't want to admit it, but the near-fall kind of scared her, too.

"You didn't wear your crampons," he chided her playfully, his tone of voice gentle.

She offered him a sheepish smile. "My bad?"

He laughed. And she laughed. And Ted leaned down to kiss her passionately because the moment simply called for it. It was like a 1940s movie and the director had just called "Action!".

She was the Donna Reed to his Jimmy Stewart.

He lifted her up, back to a standing position. Tracy's hands were at his chest, smoothing down the material of his jacket that she had bunched up with her fists.

Ted looked at her now, their erratic breathing—both from the scary ice incident and their ardent embrace—slowing down back to normal. Her cheeks were flushed, snowflakes on her lashes were making them glisten in the night, and she was looking up at him with a smile, as if his goofy, dorky self was the reason for her happiness.

He felt like the richest guy in town.

"I love you," he told her simply, his hands wrapping fully around her waist.

She stood up on the tips of her toes, her hands moving to clutch at his forearms. Her mouth moved to his left ear, Ted feeling her lips tickling his lobe, her breath warm as she spoke, an incredible contrast to the cold that surrounded them.

"Ted Mosby, I'll love you 'til the day I die," she whispered.


	2. Waffles

_I know: this is a very quick update. Was trying to work on one of my other three stories, but this was the one that poured out of my brain instead. Hope you all enjoy; this one's as fluffy as Ted's waffles and as sickly sweet as Canadian maple syrup._

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><p><em>2000<em>

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><p>Ted rolled over in bed on Sunday morning and groaned, the summer sun streaming through his window a bit too harshly for his light hangover.<p>

For a 22-year-old living in a large metropole for the first time, having a bar directly underneath his apartment seemed like a blessing at first. But sometimes, it could really be a curse.

He turned to look at his alarm clock—7:30 a.m. flashing up at him in red—and sighed. He sat up in bed and reached for his book, re-reading _Love in the Time of Cholera _for the third time.

"This is what Sunday mornings are all about," he uttered to himself happily. A good 30 minutes of reading was the perfect start to a lazy Sunday morning, before he, Marshall and Lily could enjoy some breakfast together. It was his favorite moment of the week.

The three of them had only just moved to the city a couple of months earlier, right after graduation, where they could each fulfill their dreams. They were eager, idealistic and hopeful, Ted dreaming of being a big-shot architect, Lily wanting to make it into the art world, and Marshall hoping to get into law school.

The process was a bit slow-going. Ted had gotten a summer internship at an architecture firm downtown, and he really hoped they would take him on as a draftsperson once his internship was over.

Marshall wanted to save some money before law school, so he found an assistant job at a non-profit environmental group. It didn't pay all that handsomely, but it was fulfilling and Marshall thought it a great stepping stone for when he would eventually become an environmental lawyer.

As for Lily, the road to becoming a famous artist was tougher than she had thought. She was originally from New York, so she figured she'd have it easy breaking into her industry of choice. It wasn't easy. But she did line up a kindergarten teaching gig come fall, figuring she needed to do something to help pay the bills.

But all in all, they were happy. Living in the city was fun, and their living situation was more than ideal. Moving to a new city on his own would've been scary, Ted had to admit, so he was ecstatic to be taking this big step with his best friend and Lily, too.

Ted could hear howls of laughter outside his bedroom door, coming all the way from their room. He smiled: that was _their_ Sunday morning routine—sex and laughter—while he read his book. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Sure, had could probably bring a woman over to keep him company—he had definitely wooed a girl or two these past couple of weeks down at MacLaren's and brought her up to his room—but those were usually Friday night girls. Ted would never dare bring some random chick to their apartment to intrude on their Sunday morning ritual. It was too special.

At 8, Ted kicked off his covers, and got out of bed. He stumbled out of his room, that headache having subsided thankfully, and walked towards the bathroom, walking past their beanbag chair sitting smackdab in the middle of their living room.

It was the first piece of furniture that had bought together upon moving in, and the three of them spent their first month sleeping curled up against it at night. Thankfully (especially when it came to Marshall and Lily's sex life) they were able to afford to buy a couple of beds, but the beanbag chair still lingered until they'd be able to afford a couch and a couple of chairs.

He then made his way towards the kitchen, ready to make waffles for the three of them. Ted wasn't all that handy in the kitchen, but waffles he could do exceptionally well. He learned it from his grandma when he was a kid, during the period she lived with his family for a few years, and Sundays were always Waffle Day in the Mosby household. And he brought that tradition with him into their new apartment.

A high stack of waffles were warm and ready for Marshall and Lily when they exited their room, and they happily breathed in the sweet smell, as they did every week.

"Dude, if you didn't have a penis and you looked hotter than Lily in a dress, I'd marry you in a heartbeat," Marshall said as he pulled out a chair for his girlfriend and then sat himself down at the cheap foldable patio table they were using.

"Hey, there can be three people in this relationship if it means we keep on getting waffles every Sunday," Lily said, taking three waffles and dropping them on her plate.

"And good morning to you, too," said Ted, exiting the kitchen with Shocky in-hand, pouring coffee for the three of them.

Ted joined them at the table, watching them take their first bites before happily digging into his own breakfast.

"So, Ted," Marshall began as he took a sip of his coffee. "Who was that hot blonde you were chatting with last night?"

"Yeah!" Lily chimed in. "You two seemed to be getting along. I'm amazed you didn't score last night; she clearly wanted you."

Ted shrugged his shoulders; he never told them about his Friday-night-only rule. "I don't know," Ted lied. "I wasn't feeling it. Oh!" he said, changing the subject. He got back up and sprinted into the kitchen, bringing back with him a glass bottle of pure maple syrup. "I found this at the supermarket yesterday—it's from Canada!"

"Hmm," Marshall said, concern in his voice. "Can we afford the real stuff? I thought we agreed to stick with Aunt Jemima for now."

"I thought I'd treat my two best friends," Ted told them. "No processed sugary crap for us this morning. Go on: try it!"

And as a Marshall grabbed the bottle, he poured some syrup onto Lily's waffles first. "Something sweet for the sweetest woman in the world," he told her adoringly.

"Aw, baby," she cooed, leaning forward to give him a tender kiss.

Ted smiled at his friends, for the first time in his life feeling a slight pang of jealousy at what they had. It was a fleeting sensation; Ted really wasn't ready to commit to one woman just yet. Plus, Ted wasn't lucky like Marshall, to find "the one" at 18. Still, it must be nice to have a constant in one's life like that.

But Ted was happy; he was content with his Friday night girls for the time being. He'd find his Forever Girl someday. But for now, his constants were Marshall and Lily. And Sunday morning waffles.

And for now, this was enough.

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><p><em>2018<em>

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><p>Ted lay in bed on Sunday morning with his eyes closed, a thermometer dangling from his lips.<p>

"Can I take it out now?" he asked, speaking around the instrument in his mouth, opening his eyes.

"No, daddy!" said Penny, pointing a tiny finger at him. "Not yet!

He chuckled and cast a side glance at Tracy over their daughter's head. She gave him a smile. "Hey, _you_ wanted to get her that toy doctor's bag. Now you have to deal with being her patient," she told him softly, looking back down where six-month-old Luke was suckling on her breast.

Ted sighed happily and looked down at Penny, who was now thwacking him on the knee with a plastic reflex hammer. She saw her pediatrician do that to her the previous week at her annual visit, and it seemed to have stuck in her mind.

"Ok, sweetie, we don't hit daddy's knee repeatedly like that," he told her sternly. "Come here."

She crawled up to the head of the bed and plopped back down between her parents. She reached for Ted's mouth and grabbed the toy thermometer, staring at it in her hand.

"Is daddy sick?" he asked her.

"Very sick," she said seriously. She stood up on the bed and leaned heavily onto Ted's chest, reaching to kiss his forehead. "All better now."

Ted smiled. And he was pretty sure his heart had just melted.

This was more-or-less their Sunday morning ritual: Luke would usually start crying at around 7, which in turn would wake Penny up. So the four of them usually found themselves together in bed, Luke being fed, and Penny being entertained.

It was different from Sunday mornings past, from Ted's large family breakfasts back in Ohio, to whipping up waffles for Marshall and Lily at the old apartment, to Naked Sundays with Tracy, feeding one another waffles in bed and using the residual maple syrup in a way syrup makers and God had not intended. But this was good different: he loved Sunday mornings with his crazy little family, which still always included his famous waffles.

And since that morning was Penny's 3rd birthday, it was an extra-special lazy Sunday.

She didn't even wait for Luke's cries to wake her up; she simply got out of bed and barged into their bedroom at an ungodly hour, jumping onto Tracy first, smothering her mother with kisses and crying out "Birthday!" repeatedly. At her age, Penny finally understood the excitement that came with turning a year older. Or maybe it was simply the promise of cake and gifts that thrilled her.

So they gave her her first present—the toy medical kit, which she tore open with unabashed glee—and her other gift would come in the afternoon, when the gang, Tracy's family, and handful of moms, dads and kids from Penny's daycare were coming over for a small party. But, that morning, it was simply a quiet celebration among the four of them.

Penny was now pulling out the plastic stethoscope from the bag, eagerly moving towards Tracy.

"Be gentle," Tracy warned, as Ted held on to Penny so that she wouldn't squish Luke in her excitement. She pushed the chestpiece against Tracy's chest, giggling as the toy began to release a heartbeat sound. She then moved it towards Luke, and as Ted and Tracy held their breaths, the little girl gingerly pressed the stethoscope onto Luke, the baby still drinking his milk, not noticing his big sister's ministrations.

Ted was relieved. Penny had a habit of doing things way too excitedly and wildly, sometimes not even realizing her own strength as she barged into people, hugged a bit too hard, or played too rough. But thankfully, she still had a lighter, calmer side. Which showed whenever she played with or paid attention to her baby brother; she could be very gentle and careful when she wanted to be.

"Alright, Lucky Penny," Ted said, pulling her away from Luke, much to her disappointment. "Daddy has to go downstairs and make some special birthday waffles—I'm going to put rainbow-colored sprinkles in the batter! You stay here with mommy."

"I want to help!" she cried.

"It's your birthday," he pointed out, smoothing down her hair as he crawled out of bed."You get to stay in bed and play."

"I want to help!" she repeated, an adamant look on her face, her eyes mirror images of Tracy's. And he could never say no to those eyes.

"Ok," he gave in. Ted picked Penny up in his arms, lifting her over his head as she squealed happily, and put her down on the ground.

He then leaned over the bed, his hands pressing down onto the mattress as he looked at Tracy. He reached over to graze his finger alongside her cheek. "So, I know today is all about Penny," he began. "But happy third anniversary of the day you went through a horribly painful labor to bring her into the world."

Tracy smirked. "And when I first told you that labor was going to be painful and disgusting, _you_ tried to convince me otherwise," she reminded him.

Ted laughed. "Haven't we agreed that you should _never_ listen to me?"

He had underestimated at first how bad labor could be. Admittedly, they both hadn't anticipated what exactly would occur. It was a combination of Penny coming too fast and her slightly large head that led to Tracy ending up with stage 3 tearing, which Ted had no clue existed until it happened.

He was the first to protectively hold Penny against his bare chest during her first few minutes of life while the nurses tended to Tracy, Ted's gaze moving back and forth between his daughter and from his fiancée.

The healing process was long. But he and Tracy did everything by the book to make sure she healed properly: he iced the area twice daily, helped her with her pelvic floor exercises, made sure the stitches remained clean, and ensured she took it easy, despite the demands a newborn baby could bring. They made a pretty damn good team.

And luckily, while she was terrified when she found out she was pregnant again, fearful as Luke's due date approached that she'd have to go through all that again, their hard work had paid off. Her stitches were healed and her muscles were strong, so he slid out with minimal damage done to her body.

"Yeah, but even with your poor foresight, I still kind of love you."

"I love you, too," he murmured, pressing his lips to hers, ignoring Penny's cries of "Let's go, daddy!" so he could enjoy a few extra moments with Tracy.

He reluctantly pulled away. "Want me to take this one downstairs, too?"

He looked down at Luke, who was done with his breakfast and was just contentedly resting in Tracy's arms. Ted reached a finger towards him and the baby immediately wrapped his little fist around it, his brown eyes gazing up at him.

"Would you?" she asked him, grateful. "I just want to quickly jump in the shower. Don't think I'll have the time later."

"Sure," Ted said, reaching over to take the baby from her arms, pressing him close to his chest. "I'll put you in your high chair and show you how to make waffles that'll someday leave women putty in your hands, right buddy?"

Tracy chuckled. "It was less your waffles and more the fact that you made them N-A-K-E-D. I liked the view—and the fact that you used to clean up my kitchen in the buff, as well."

Ted blushed, recalling those simpler times when it was just the two of them. "Speaking of which—cleaning up, and not this hot body you love so much—I apologize in advance for the mess she'll make in the kitchen."

"It's ok," she told him. "You're still the one cleaning it up, anyway."

His eyes widened. "Hey, our deal is I cook and you clean, and vice versa," he reminded her playfully. It was a good rule that worked well for them from the moment they moved in together.

"True," she said. "But last week we agreed: I give you a B-L-O-W-J-O-B in exchange for one kitchen clean-up. _I've_ already fulfilled my end of the deal. _You_, mister, have not."

Ted grinned. "I love the way we bargain," he admitted. Trading chores for sexual favors was a pretty good way to make sure the house remained spotless. "And by the way, Luke doesn't have much grasp on the English language. No need to spell words out in front of him."

"I'm spelling them out for the ankle-biter over there," she said, nodding down at Penny, who was now anxiously tugging at the leg of Ted's pajama bottoms. "She has a colorful enough language as it is. We don't need another warning from her daycare."

At her pointed stare, Ted gave her an apologetic look. "I _really_ had no idea she was in the room while I was talking with Barney, babe!" he said defensively. He had used a few colorful words while talking on the phone with his friend, which Penny had heard and then taken with her to daycare the next day.

"Mm-hm," she mumbled teasingly. "Ok, I'm going to jump in the shower. I'll be down in 20 minutes."

"Sounds good," he said as Tracy climbed out of bed. "And, hey, if I offer to take over the clean-up after the party tonight, what could you give me in return?"

Tracy pondered it a moment, a twinkle in her eye that she only got when they were alone together; certainly not while the kids were within earshot. "I've got something in mind—just be sure to save aside some maple syrup."

Ted's eyebrows shot up with intrigue as she winked at him. His gaze on her retreating back as she disappeared into their master bath was intense, heavy with both love and desire.

It was amazing, he thought, as he looked down at the kids and then back up at the closed door of the bathroom, the sounds of the running shower coming from the other side, how some things could change over the years.

But then there were others which remained constant.

"Alright, guys," Ted now said enthusiastically, bouncing Luke in his arms and shuffling Penny out of the bedroom. "Time to make some waffles!"


	3. Sleep

_Ok, chapter 3 is up! It starts up right after the events in "Lobster Crawl", so you know we've now entered baby territory. Enjoy!_

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><p><em>2012<em>

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><p><em>"Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere."<em>

Ted finished reading, looking down at a sleeping Marvin in his arms. He smiled, placed the copy of _Goodnight Moon _on the night table, and carefully got up from the rocking chair.

He rocked the baby a bit in his arms, admitting to himself that he really loved the peacefulness that came with a sleeping baby. It was pretty soothing.

Marshall and Lily had asked Ted if he was free to babysit Marvin that day, admitting they needed a Sunday just to themselves. With Mickey having the weekends off, Ted jumped at the chance to hang out with Marvin. Of course, he first had to promise that he wouldn't hijack any more of the baby's firsts ("I swear to God, Mosby, if his first words are 'Uncle Ted'..." Lily had threatened him through clenched teeth), but after they had left for their couples' massage, Ted and Marvin had a pretty great day.

They spent the morning on the floor, Marvin playing with his toys and getting better and better with his crawling, wriggling across the living room faster than Ted could grab him. Ted then bundled him up in his snowsuit and hat, and they took a wintry stroll through Central Park together. Women would stop them to coo at Marvin, flashing Ted sexy grins, their eyes not-so-discreetly scanning his bare ring finger.

And when they stopped by a bistro so Ted could have a coffee and feed Marvin his pureed whatever-the-hell-that-green-stuff-was, a group of brunching women nearby would look over at them, smile, and walk over to say "hello".

If this were a few years earlier, Ted would likely have reveled in all this attention, and would've borrowed a baby, any baby, if it could help him get laid. (He was sure Barney must've had a play in _The Playbook_.) But at this point in his life, as he pushed the stroller back in the direction of Marshall and Lily's apartment, and felt a pang in his chest as he spotted a couple together as they pushed along their child in a carriage, meaningless sex just wasn't on his radar. (Well, ok, maybe sometimes. A man has needs, after all!)

Back in the warmth of the apartment, Ted had given Marvin his bottle, changed his diaper, and read to him before his afternoon nap. Now, he gently placed Marvin in his crib, lifting his fleece _Star Wars_ blanket to his waist, and moving his plush Ewok closer to his body.

"Sorry I couldn't sing your bedtime song, buddy," Ted said, crossing his arms on the edge of the crib and leaning forward. "It kinda works better as a duo. Don't tell your mom, though."

He ran a hand down his Minnesota Vikings onesie, chuckling at the fact that Marshall made it a point to dress Marvin up in it for his day with his Uncle Ted.

"It's ok," he assured him with a smile. "Your Browns jersey is waiting for you next time you come stay at my place. And that's something you should keep from your _dad_. It'll be our little secret."

Ted still had that Cleveland Browns onesie, folded up in a drawer in his bedroom, hoping against hope he would someday have a son or daughter who would proudly sport it. He sighed, watching the rise and fall of Marvin's chest; would his someday ever come?

He thought back to the previous week, after he had met with that headhunter to line up his next work project. Sure, he had used Marvin to keep himself busy now that the GNB building was complete. Ted needed something to do to fill the void, to put his stamp on something, to build something he could be proud of. The GNB building was quite the achievement, of course—and Ted would be lying if he said it wasn't his biggest life accomplishment to date—and both designing buildings and teaching architecture were fulfilling gigs that brought him immense joy and satisfaction. But he wanted more. And he knew he couldn't kidnap Marvin every time he felt that emptiness inside him.

"You know, Marvin," Ted began, his voice barely a whisper. He was never ashamed to admit his deepest desires to his friends; but being able to confide in Marvin, without judgment or the same old platitudes of "You'll find her someday!", was nice. "Your parents are the luckiest people in the world. They have each other, they have you. What more can someone ask for?"

It was the truth. Ted would trade all the accomplishments in the world for what his best friends had. A loving and supportive spouse, and a baby (or two...) to tie the whole package together. He'd feel like he was doing something worthwhile with his life, giving out all the love he had building up in his heart, for an imaginary wife and child that didn't exist yet... or would probably never exist. Maybe that life simply wasn't for him. Maybe he was just meant to be cool Uncle Ted. It was a blessing, of course, and Ted loved Marvin as much as humanly possible. But the Eriksen baby wasn't his to keep.

"I'll tell you what, kiddo," he murmured, reaching over to run his fingers through Marvin's soft red hair. "Boy, do I wish I could give you a little cousin someday. How awesome would that be?"

And as Ted walked away from the crib and gently shut the bedroom door behind him, he could only hope that that someday wasn't too far away.

* * *

><p><em>2015<em>

* * *

><p><em>She really is the most beautiful thing in the world<em>, Ted thought to himself as he gazed down at Penny sleeping soundly in her bassinet.

_Well, beautiful comma baby category_, he mused, looking over at where Tracy was sleeping in the hospital bed. His fiancée fell into the beautiful comma lover-slash-soulmate category, and Ted figured there was room in his heart for more than one Most Beautiful Person.

And little Penelope Lane Mosby—with ten fingers, ten toes, bald head, button nose, and rosy cheeks—was utterly adorable. And she was his. She was _theirs_.

And she was tiny! Certainly smaller than he recalled Marvin had been when he was born. Ted remembered holding him at a mere two-hours-old, in awe of how small he was and how fragile he seemed. He had the same feeling with Penny this time around, the nurses practically plopping the baby into his arms at a minute-old, and he held her anxiously, protectively, lovingly.

Their baby was now a little over 24 hours old. Born the previous evening at 8 o'clock, due to Tracy's difficult labor, instead of kicking their butts out after one night, Tracy was kept an extra night for observation. Which was nice—they both had to admit having the help of the hospital staff all day was pretty reassuring. After all, it was crazy how, in an instant, he and Tracy were now responsible for a living, breathing human. It was pretty thrilling, yet terrifying at the same time.

Sure, Ted had babysat Marvin on numerous occasions, so he wasn't a novice. He knew how to bottle-feed a baby, could expertly change a dirty diaper, and soothe a wailing infant with soft tune and a bounce in his arms. But this was a whole other ballgame: he wasn't babysitting, he was a _father_. It was a game he was thrilled to play, however. After all, with years of sitting on the sidelines waiting for his big chance, Ted Mosby was finally at the bat. And he had just hit a homerun.

And now that Ted had made it, he wasn't going anywhere. He was going to be the dad he always dreamed of being, the spouse Tracy would have by her side day in and day out. Even if it meant cramming himself into the confining hospital chair for another night.

"Ted, baby, go home and sleep in our bed," Tracy told him a few hours earlier, wincing slightly as she adjusted herself on the bed. "You won't be comfortable sleeping in that chair again."

Ted was standing by the bed, holding Penny in his arms, rocking her as she looked up at him, making adorable cooing sounds.

"One, after what _you_ just went through, there's really no reason for you to worry about _my_ discomfort, which just pales in comparison. And two, there is no way in H-E-L-L," he said, already starting to cover-up any foul language with the baby within earshot, "that I'm leaving you and our daughter for even a single night. So, you're pretty much stuck with me."

And he meant it: after Tracy had fed Penny, they placed the slumbering newborn in her bassinet, and with an exhausted Tracy succumbing to the drowsy effects of her pain medication, Ted happily settled into that uncomfortable chair.

Two hours later, with Tracy resting peacefully, Ted—whose body was exhausted but who was otherwise completely awake and wired—decided to watch the baby sleep for awhile.

He observed her breathing, the little sounds of expelling air coming out of her nose, the rise and fall of her tiny chest. He could do this for hours and not get bored, he figured. Earlier that day as she slept—she had spent a good chunk of the day asleep, when she wasn't eating or pooping—he and Tracy had literally spent a good 90 minutes simply with their fingers entwined and staring into the bassinet. It was a pretty peaceful and perfect moment.

Ted now reached down to caress her head—her slightly large but adorable head that contributed to Tracy's stage 3 tearing, which he figured she'd grow into eventually—graze her cheek with his finger, run his thumb over her heart-shaped pout. _We made this_, he thought, amazed, for what seemed like the millionth time in the past 24 hours. Their love and desire for one another created this perfect little being, a flawless mix of the two of them, a new person for them to love unconditionally.

"So, Penny," he whispered. "Your mom and I are taking you home tomorrow. Well, your temporary home. In a few months, we're taking you to our house in Westchester—it's huge and just gorgeous. You're going to love it up there. But, then again, home is wherever the three of us are together, right?"

Penny made a grunting noise in her sleep, which made Ted laugh lightly, and oddly made him want to weep out of sheer joy.

He really never thought he'd ever make it to this moment. After years of failed relationships, he figured this life was out-of-reach, something that wasn't meant for him. For a long time, true love and a family seemed to only be meant for the Marshalls and Lilys of the world.

But here he was, his biggest dream fulfilled; good things come to those who wait, so the cliché goes. Sure, it took a long time to get here but, funnily enough, Ted felt like it all just snuck up on him so quickly. And he knew that time was likely to fly by just as quick: first steps, first words, first day of school, first boyfriend, graduations, wedding...

Yet Ted knew there was no rush in looking too far ahead: he'd only been a dad for a day, after all. There were so many days ahead, with so much to look forward to and to learn. But for now, he just wanted to be in this moment.

"You'll have to bear with us," he continued. "Your mom and I are pretty new at this whole parenting thing, so it's going to be a bit of a learning process for a little while."

"We're both bound to fudge things up in the beginning. But I promise you: we're going to love you with everything we've got. And then some! You're going to be dipping into our love overdraft, honey." Ted paused. "You obviously have no clue what I'm telling you. You see, an overdraft is—"

Ted then laughed and shook his head. "Why don't we explain to you the banking fundamentals when you're a little older, huh? Your Uncle Barney will teach you."

He stopped talking and continued to stare at his daughter for a little while longer, a state of calmness enveloping him. He usually only felt that with Tracy, on quiet evenings where they did nothing, sitting on the couch, her nose in a book, his head on her shoulder. It was a great feeling; Ted felt whole. He felt settled.

"Anyway, I'm glad we had our little chat," he told her, yawning as his lack of sleep was finally catching up with him. "Oh, and if you hadn't noticed by now, your daddy's a bit of a talker. You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

Ted then heard the sound of a blanket rustling behind him. "Pooh bear?" Tracy's soft voiced called out sleepily. "You here?"

With one last look at the baby, undisturbed by Ted's emotional speech, his gaze settled on the bed, smiling at Tracy's figure in the darkness of the hospital room.

"I'm here, Trace," he assured her tenderly, settling back into his chair as she dozed back to sleep, Ted himself not far behind, quickly dreaming of bedtime stories, Cleveland Browns onesies, great days ahead, and a giant book full of Penny's firsts.


	4. Birthday

_And we're back! So this one is a first for this series: we go into Tracy's head for a bit. The rest of it will be pretty much all Ted... Well, except for the final chapter, who will have a whole other person's POV. But I'm getting ahead of myself. (Btw, I make references to a couple of my other stories—"Oh, What I Wouldn't Do" and "A Guiding Force"—since most of my stories are all interconnected. So those might give you a bit of backstory.) Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated. Thanks!_

* * *

><p><em>September 19 2006<em>

* * *

><p>"Hey, babe."<p>

Tracy sat down in front of Max's tombstone, a warm and sunny Tuesday morning, the last remnants of summer before the cool, rainy autumn weather would eventually settle upon the city.

It was early, 9:30 a.m., and the dewy grass she was sitting on would leave a stain on the bottom of her jeans, but she didn't care. She just stared at his headstone, her gaze set on his name engraved into the black marble.

_Maxwell Alexander Nicholls_

_22/07/1984 - 19/09/2005 _

_Beloved son_

She'd come here often since his passing; practically every day if she was able to swing it. Tracy had somehow managed to graduate from Juilliard in the spring despite all the crying, the disinterest in studying, and the lack of sleep. And now, she was working at a piano bar as a waitress in the evenings, occasionally performing on Friday and Saturday nights for extra cash, which meant she had all day free to sit with Max.

It brought her comfort, despite the fact that the loss was still hard, still felt raw. Everyone said that the first year would be the most difficult to bear, with a myriad of firsts that she would have to endure without him: first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine's Day, their anniversary, his birthday... And now she'd made it to the one-year mark, wondering if the pain and longing would just disappear instantly, like with the flick of a light switch.

It hadn't.

Tracy woke up that morning, her 22nd birthday, the one-year anniversary of Max's death, feeling numb. She thought back to the previous year, having woken up to a warm body next to her, his soft lips whispering "Happy birthday" into her ear, Tracy thinking that life just couldn't get any better than this. Funny how she was technically right: life _couldn't_ get any better, it got worse; _lots_ worse. Just 13 hours later, she'd receive a phone call that would turn her world upside down, then find herself in a hospital corridor between Max's equally-stricken mother and her own mom who was holding her up, crying out in sheer grief and heartbreak.

"No, Max, noooo!" she had screamed, inconsolable, her mom rocking her in her arms like she used to do when she was a child. "He's gone, he's goooooone..."

And that morning, she just let herself cry like she did practically every morning, Kelly knocking on her bedroom door to ask her if she was alright, wishing her a happy birthday.

Tracy was grateful for her best friend: once Tracy was ready, Kelly had moved in to the apartment a couple of months after Max's death, to keep her company, and to help contribute to the monthly rent, which Tracy couldn't pay on her own without Max. Her presence was appreciated, even if Tracy spent most of her time either in bed or on the couch, rebuffing any and all of Kelly's gentle requests to go out.

And then there she was this morning, telling her that there was a big breakfast waiting for her in the kitchen. Tracy wasn't in the mood—not for food, not for anything—but she knew that Kelly had made a deal with her mom, that she'd keep tabs on her emotional stability, her eating habits, everything.

So to avoid another conversation with her worried mother, Tracy forced herself to get out of bed, opened her bedroom door, and looked up at Kelly's smiling face. She accepted a warm hug, which admittedly felt nice, took a few bites of eggs and bacon to keep her best friend satisfied, and opened her birthday gift: a beautiful new calligraphy set she had been eyeing these past few months.

"Thank you, Kelly," she told her, forcing to keep the grateful tears at bay.

"My pleasure, sweetie," she told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

After Kelly had left for work, Tracy got dressed, picked up a bouquet of flowers, and took the bus out to New Jersey, a familiar 45-minute bus ride that took her back to her childhood home, and where Max was laid to rest.

And here she was now, the same spot she sat in as four seasons passed by, starring at a tombstone that was her boyfriend's eternal resting place. Even though she was staring right at it, a physical reminder of Max's grim fate, it was still hard to believe at times. And yet she continued to speak to him as if he was with her, one-sided conversations that helped Tracy believe that he was still with her somehow.

"How're you doing?" she asked him. "Hope heaven's treating you well. Any cool conversations with any dead presidents? I'm sure Teddy Roosevelt has some pretty great stories to tell..."

"I'm doing ok," she continued without pause, stretching out her legs and allowing her body to relax. "Work's going well: I get to play the piano some, so that's exciting. Oh, and I've been playing around with the ukelele you got me! I'll bring it by sometime, and maybe play "La Vie en Rose" for you."

It was a song that her mom used to sing to her when she needed comforting as a kid. And she sang it to Max once after his dad had passed away a few years ago, and he really loved it. Tracy quickly glanced over at the tombstone right next to Max's, remembering her boyfriend's grief, and how he had allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of her.

So Tracy had tinkered with the song on the ukelele, and played it for herself often, as a means to calm her down when the anxiety was particularly rough, when the loneliness would become too much to bear.

She knew she wasn't depressed, at least not in the clinical sense of the word. Her mom and Kelly had both kindly suggested she speak with someone, but Tracy refused. How else did they expect her to act when the love of her life died in a horrific car crash? Healing wouldn't take place overnight; she felt she was doing pretty ok given what she had been through.

Or, at least she tried to convince herself as much.

Tracy stuck around for another couple of hours, either just sitting in comfortable silence, or recounting a few stories to Max. It was nice. Cemeteries no longer felt creepy like they did when she was a kid. She looked forward to her visits, and actually enjoyed the quiet; and best of all, she could feel Max's presence there. She felt less alone when she was visiting him.

"Alright, Max," she eventually said, apologetically, starting to gather her things and standing up. "I have to get going: meeting my parents for a birthday lunch. Tried to get out of it, but they want to make things as normal for me as possible." She scoffed bitterly at that. "Normal. Guess this is my new normal, huh?"

And for the first time since arriving there, Tracy burst into tears, fed up and frustrated with her "new normal", that she had to settle for this life without Max. It hurt. _A lot._ And if she had to deal with a lifetime of this pain and anguish, year after year after year, she didn't know what to do.

"I miss you, Max," she said through her sobs, desperately wishing he was still with her. Because without him, she wasn't living; she was merely existing. And Tracy missed the old her, the bubbly, fun-loving person she used to be when she was with Max.

And as Tracy gave one last longing glance at the headstone and began walking away, she wondered if that girl would ever come back again.

* * *

><p><em>September 19 2014<em>

* * *

><p>"Hi, Max."<p>

Tracy stood before his headstone, the once-shiny marble now weathered due to the elements and the passing of time, and noticed the fresh bouquet of flowers placed on the ground. His mom must've already stopped by earlier in the day, she figured.

"How've you been?" she asked, speaking to him like she always used to. "I know I haven't stopped by in a while..."

She felt a little bit guilty for not visiting sooner. For years after his death, she was at the cemetery on a near-daily basis; it was part of her routine, her healing process. And when life got a bit busier and she went back to school, she managed to stop by a few times per month, still needing to sit with him and talk to him. The loss had admittedly gotten a bit easier to deal with the passage of time, but she still continued to love and miss him, and she was certain that she would forever feel this way.

But she hadn't been to the cemetery since a week or two prior to meeting Ted. And since that moment, life had been good again. Tracy had finally decided to release the hold Max had on her heart, and she had been so busy and happy and in love, that she hadn't had the opportunity to stop by again since.

Tracy had felt the guilt and a sense of wistfulness the previous year on her birthday, wanting that day to continue to be a day of mourning for Max, to at least have one day where his memory would be kept alive. But Ted, bless his heart, insisted her birthday had to go back to being a fun and joyful day. So for the first time in eight years, her birthday was good again, filled with love, cake and presents, Tracy finally allowing herself to celebrate the day of her birth, and not make it a day of wallowing and darkness.

Ted had assured her that it was okay to enjoy herself. And Tracy knew he was right. She had mourned for too long; and she finally had a reason to feel hopeful and happy again.

"Sorry I didn't stop by last year," she told Max now, depositing her own flowers on the ground. "But, I think, that was probably a good thing. Right? I'm sure you know it had been a long time since I actually had a _happy_ birthday..."

She knew that Max would be disappointed in her, at the fact that she had put her life on hold for so long. So in all likelihood, wherever he was looking down on her from, Max would surely be content and proud that she had finally found the strength to move forward with someone new, to have a chance at a full life, one that had seemed so out-of-reach.

And she saw a future with Ted. They'd definitely talked about marriage and kids in the past few months, so it was a certainty in their relationship. But it made Tracy sad that Max would never have that. They used to talk about it, even though they were only 20 and it was a long ways down the road for them; but the possibility of such a life seemed to die along with him. Tracy never thought she'd have that.

But then Ted came along, and there was now a great chance of a future for her and him. And it sucked that Max had to die so young; he never got the opportunity to become a husband and a father. Perhaps not necessarily with her—who knows, had he lived, if he was going to be her happily-ever-after—but in general. He was a sweet, generous, funny and loving guy. He deserved a long and happy life.

He deserved to be as lucky as she was.

Tracy turned her body to look behind her, where Ted was standing a few yards away, leaning against the hood of the car, hands in his coat pockets. He was watching her from afar, the look in his eyes soft and supportive. He had wanted to give her some private time with Max, which was sweet of him.

She was always honest and upfront to Ted about Max from the start, and he had always been supportive and gentle, which was a great relief given her fragile heart. He made it easy for her to open up to him and to heal, helping her to break down the walls that she had built. Ted made falling in love again seem like the simplest thing in the world; and she felt it important to bring Ted with her here today, to share this part of her life with him. It was an easy decision.

Tracy smiled at Ted now, who offered his own comforting grin. She reached out her arm, signalling for him to join her. He pushed himself away from the car, and she watched him walk towards her, his new leather sneakers getting muddied, but he didn't seem to care.

"So Ted has this theory that you may have had a hand in bringing the two of us together," she murmured. "And while it may sound unbelievable, I kinda believe it too."

Ted was finally at her side, his warm hand reaching for hers and lacing their fingers together, a reassuring gesture meant to comfort her.

"So, thanks for sending this one my way," she finished, pressing her body against Ted's, tears pooling in her eyes, a mix of gratefulness towards Max, sadness for her loss, and bliss over the love that had eluded her for so long that she had finally found. Ted smiled softly and pulled her closer to him, kissing her forehead.

Max's memory would still live on, she knew. She'd still take a moment to remember him each year; he was such an important part of her life for so long, after all, and Tracy had learned so much from being with him, and she had loved him so fiercely and passionately. Which is why she had taken a moment to visit his grave today. She may not come back to visit every year, and she'd finally stopped living in the past; but Tracy would continue to remember him every year on the 19th of September, she'd still remember all the good times, and she'd be sure to recount as many stories as possible to Ted, who was always happy to hear them.

"Ready to go?" she asked Ted.

He smiled. "You're the birthday girl. We can stick around a few more minutes," he assured her. "Take all the time you need; Farhampton isn't going anywhere."

"Ok, maybe just a couple more minutes."

Ted was whisking her away on a romantic weekend getaway to Farhampton for her 30th birthday. Tracy was curious as to what he had up his sleeve; she wouldn't put a huge-ass surprise past him after the big deal he made out of her birthday the previous year. She tried to pry some info out of him, but he wouldn't budge. Tracy knew he'd been itching to show her the view from atop the lighthouse since their last trip there in May, so maybe his big surprise would involve that somehow. Whatever it would be, the excitement she could finally allow herself to feel again was gift enough.

As was the gift of being able to love again.

She gave one last glance at Max's headstone and then looked back up at Ted with a smile, pulling him away now in the direction of the car. Ted playfully picked her up to keep her boots away from the mud underneath their feet. And as Tracy laughed at his silly romantic gesture, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, knew she was pretty damn lucky that she had experienced not one, but two great loves of her life.


	5. Alone

_And we're back; sorry for the long delay! Took me awhile to get this chapter to a point where I was happy with it. It takes place the night of "The Time Travelers". Ted's loneliness was just so palpable in that episode, that I had to write about it. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), this pushes the story to an M rating due to language and sexual situations.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>April 2013<em>

* * *

><p>"Fuck me, Ted Mosby!"<p>

Ted's hand slowly glided up and down his shaft, letting the sounds of _Ted Mosby: Sex Architect_ from his bedroom TV wash over him as he desperately tried to get himself off.

He was lonely; so fucking painfully lonely. And that loneliness was amplified earlier that evening as he sat in MacLaren's by himself, staring down at a single ticket to Robots vs. Wrestlers. It was a fun activity normally reserved for the whole gang, but with other obligations taking priority for the two couples in the group, Ted was left to fend for himself. As he had been doing a lot lately.

So Ted made his way over to to the sports arena, downing a couple of beers as he watched Mexican Wrestler Ted go head-to-head with an articulated robot. But after the fight had barely even started, Ted's doppelgänger was quickly taken down by one of the robot's arms, and the fight was deemed over. And as Ted watched the spandex-clad wrestler groan in pain on the ground, he couldn't help but feel as the athlete must've felt: beaten down. Wounded. Humiliated. A loser.

With a sigh, Ted shrugged on his jacket as he followed the crowd out into the street. _Now what?_ he thought. His watch told him that it was just shy of 10:30. Too early to go to bed. Or, more specifically, too depressing to go back home to an empty bed.

But what could he do? He wasn't up to going back to MacLaren's again—he had a feeling Carl would just look at him with a pitying look again, like he's had lately every time Ted wandered into the bar on his own. Marshall and Lily and Barney and Robin were clearly unavailable. So all he could do was trudge on home with his head hanging low.

He hated being single. That wasn't much of a surprise; everyone knew what Ted's ultimate goal was. But he somehow felt more lonely lately. Maybe it was Barney and Robin planning their wedding, or perhaps watching Marshall and Lily with the baby... It was as if the universe was rubbing in his face what he didn't have. What he wanted the most in the world, everyone else had but him. _Ha ha! Everyone's getting their happily-ever-after, and you-ou a-aren't!_ the taunting voice sing-songed in his head.

What was _wrong_ with him? Ted pondered endlessly what, exactly, it was about him that had him, time and again, going after the wrong women. His initial obsession with Robin; proposing to Stella only months into dating; falling for Zoey even though he knew she was out to ruin his career; letting Victoria back into his life; going out with Jeanette even though he was aware that she was batshit crazy... Why was he still going after the wrong women? What hadn't he learned his lesson? Why was he punishing himself?

And for God's sake, where was his "one"?! Stella had once told him that she was "coming as fast as she can" and, for a time, he believed her; it gave him hope. But now Ted wondered whether this girl even existed; or maybe she made a detour and found someone better while on her way.

Ted finally made it back to his apartment, angrily slamming the front door shut and peeling off his clothes in the living room. He walked into the bathroom, needing a shower to clear his head from the beer-induced haze and the lonely thoughts that were presently overpowering his brain.

He let the spray of the warm water hit his back, and then stepped closer under the water, letting it rain over his head. Ted dejectedly pressed his forehead against the cool tile in front of him. He probably stood there for a good few minutes before he even forced himself to grab his cloth and soap.

After his shower, Ted hoped he'd feel a little bit revived, but that wasn't the case. He sighed, opening the mirror cabinet, noticing a few tampons that Jeanette must have left behind. He shook his head: he admittedly missed having a woman's stuff taking over his space. Even though Jeanette wasn't the one, and he didn't necessarily miss _her_, Ted did miss the presence of another person in the apartment.

Ted grabbed the bottle of lube he was looking for, took the tampons and trashed them, and then shut off the light and before heading upstairs to his room.

He riffled through his drawers for something comfortable to wear, pulling out a pair of sweats and his Wesleyan t-shirt, slipping them on before he moved over to his nightstand, grabbing the DVD copy of the porn film that was his namesake. He popped it into the player and turned on the TV, letting the movie start as he moved around his room, pulled down the comforter and crawled into bed, getting himself a comfortable as he could.

Ted cringed as he watched his old schoolmate Steve sitting at his drafting table, shaking his head at the reminder that Barney had allowed the movie to be filmed in the old apartment, for his table to get defiled. He recalled giving it a good cleaning after the fact, and still sits at it with trepidation every time he needs to draft.

So now here he was in bed, bored as he watched the blonde actress lean against the table, running her fingers up and down Steve's chest. Porn really didn't do much for him anymore. But he admittedly needed the release; so he lifted his hips and pulled down his pants, then squeezed a dollop of lube into his palm.

And as the actors' clothes quickly came off, Ted shaking his head in shame, he wrapped his hand around his member, and began to move it up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, sighing, but really imagining that it was someone else's hand that was pleasuring him, and not his own.

It was his dirty little secret, whacking off to _Lance Hardwood in Ted Mosby: Sex Architect_. He was indignant at first when Steve used his name to become a porn sensation, which pretty much could've ruined Ted's reputation. But now, he had a habit of watching it in secret, shutting his eyes as he hears the throaty voice of Steve's co-star call out his name.

"Fuck me, Ted Mosby! Harder, faster, Ted Mosby!"

Ted let out a guttural moan, his legs bent and writhing as he moved faster.

He liked to pretend that she was talking to him; it was easy, what with his own name being called and all. But he wasn't picturing a buxom blonde in a too-tight dress with bright red lips. He pictured kind eyes, soft lips, flushed cheeks, and warm hands.

He pictured a comforting embrace on nights when he feels low, a light laugh as he tells a joke, a head on his shoulder on cold evenings and, yes, a naked body moving above him with a look of love and desire in her eyes.

He'd imagine the words she'd say to him as they made love, the porn star's screechy voice disappearing, making way for a softer voice in his mind.

"That's perfect, Ted Mosby." "Right there, Ted Mosby." "I need you, Ted Mosby."

He smiled to himself.

"I love you, Ted Mosby."

And it was those imagined words that were always Ted's undoing. He gasped out as his body quaked, shutting his eyes as he came, quickly reaching for a tissue. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, and he cursed himself as cleaned up. Ted was spent, sure, but far from satisfied.

He oddly felt more lonely than he had before.

Ted angrily tossed the wad of tissue onto his nightstand, and lay his head back down onto the pillow forcefully. He reached down to lift his boxers and sweatpants up from around his ankles, and he curled into a ball on his side of the bed. Because even though he was alone, he still slept on his side, leaving the other empty and untouched.

Maybe it was a hopeful sign, that he still trusted that another body will someday fill that space. But he hoped it would be soon, because he was losing his faith... and fast.

* * *

><p><em>June 2013<em>

* * *

><p>"Fuck me, Ted Mosby!"<p>

Ted was watching _Ted Mosby: Sex Architect_ through lowered lashes, utterly embarassed as Tracy sat up in bed next to him, her eyes wide in amazement.

"That's Marshall and Lily's apartment!" said, fascination in her voice, even though Ted had already given her a heads-up on that fact.

"Yep," he confirmed dully. He cringed as he watched Steve ram into the blonde porn actress again and again.

"And she's bent over your drafting table," she murmured, looking over at him. "The exact one from downstairs?" Tracy knew the answer, but she just wanted to hear him say it.

"That is correct," he told her. "You wouldn't believe how much bleach I had to use to scrub it clean..."

Tracy giggled as she snuggled up closer to him, her eyes settled on the TV screen. "This is the greatest thing I've ever seen!"

He and Tracy had been lying in bed earlier, having settled in for the night, but were still awake and talking. They'd been together for only a month—and having sex for a little over a week—so they were still learning things about one another.

And as they huddled under the sheets, sharing anecdotes and whispering secrets, Ted brought up the fact that there were porn movies featuring his moniker. It was embarrassing, sure, but Ted felt comfortable admitting it to Tracy.

But unfortunately for him, Tracy was comfortable enough to ask: "Can we watch one?" She couldn't even hide the intrigue and excitement in her voice.

Ted shifted uneasily, combing back his hair with his fingers nervously. "I don't know, Trace. It's pretty embarrassing; I don't know how I'd feel watching it with you."

She seemed slightly hurt at his words, he noted, but she still offered him a reassuring smile. "If you can't watch it with me," she pointed out. "Who _can_ you watch it with?"

He gazed at her, letting her words sink in. She was right. Here he was, finally able to share his life with someone, and he was still holding back. Ted had dreamed of this moment for a long time, and he wanted to share everything—the good and the bad—with her. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't let her into the most intimate parts of his life; yes, even the most cringeworthy and embarrassing ones. Besides, Ted knew he could be vulnerable with Tracy and not be judged.

"Ok," he said softly, leaning in to give her a kiss. "We can watch it. But, for the love of the God, I hope your parents never Google 'Ted Mosby, architect.' This still pops up in the top 10. I'd be embarrassed to look them in the eyes if I get to meet them."

Tracy smiled wide. "I'll admit, I think I'd have fun trying to explain it to them," she said with a giggle. She then turned serious. "Thank you, Ted. For showing this to me."

So he climbed out of bed as Tracy laughed giddily and mischievously, grabbing the DVD from his underwear drawer, popping it into the player and turning on the TV before crawling back into bed with her.

And so they watched, Ted still horrified—at both the fact that this movie and others even existed, and the fact that he used to get himself off on it—but it didn't seem so bad with Tracy next to him. She was curled up against him, a warm hand on his stomach, quietly telling him there was no reason to feel ashamed. And Ted was admittedly happy that she was enjoying herself, laughing at how bad the movie was, offering her own commentary throughout.

"She's totally faking it," she uttered as the actress on the screen cried out loudly, exaggeratingly so, which made Ted laugh and adore her all the more. "I mean, who screams like that?"

"Someone who gets paid a crapload of money to pretend that Steve Beal from Shaker Heights, Ohio can get her off?" he offered.

Tracy snorted. "For that much money, she can at least make it sound a bit believable. Or maybe she needs the _real_ Ted Mosby to get her motor running." She gave him a wink and elbowed his belly.

Ted grinned at her, arching an eyebrow suggestively. "Think I can do a better job than Steve there?" he asked.

"Um, of course!" she told him. "I think you missed your calling, Ted. _You_ should be making millions with your bedroom skills. I myself am sometimes tempted to just leave a few bills on your nightstand." She flashed him a goofy grin.

Ted blushed. They may have only been having sex for a little over a week, and Ted already knew what she liked, what made her whimper helplessly. But he still had so much to learn about her; and she about him. And he didn't quite think he was as up to par as Tracy made him out to be.

"Ok, I'm not _that_ good," he said bashfully. "But thanks for the ego boost."

"On the contrary: you _are_ that good," she assured him, climbing onto his lap and straddling him, tugging at his boxer-briefs a bit. "And I think we can give them a run for their money."

Before he could say anything, she leaned forward to nibble at his ear, Ted moaning at the contact. And as he heard the loud cries of "Yes! Yes! Yes!" coming from the TV, he was focusing on the playful "Yes, yes, yes," Tracy was softly whispering in his ear instead.

"Fuck me, Ted Mosby!" the actress continued to cry out.

"Fuck me, Ted Mosby," Tracy echoed, her voice low and throaty. She then started laughing, smiling apologetically. "Ok, that sounded way sexier in my head."

Ted swallowed hard and shook his head. "_Believe_ me, that was sexy," he encouraged her, moving to kiss her fervently, his hands stroking her backside over her cotton shorts, then sneaking them underneath his Wesleyan t-shirt that she was wearing, before moving them up her back and into her hair.

Tracy grinded up against his lap as they made out, tugging at one another's clothes until they were skin to skin. Tracy's hands caressed his body, whereas Ted fumbled around for the remote, shutting off the TV.

He really couldn't be bothered with a porn flick, after all, when he had something considerably better right in front of him.

"We should totally do it on your drafting table sometime," she suggested teasingly as he slipped inside her, Tracy gripping onto the headboard behind him.

"I'm going to have to take you up on that," Ted breathed out as she began to ride him, taking the reigns, sending him over the edge.

A few minutes later, Tracy rolled off of him, landing on her back with a happy sigh. "I am going to sleep _so_ well tonight," she admitted with a yawn.

Sex normally tended to make Ted sleepy, too. But right then, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. As he settled back down into a lying position, accepting Tracy's sweet goodnight kiss—which contradicted the naughty way she squirmed and twisted above him earlier—all he could do was focus on the woman next to him, filling that empty space in his bed that had been waiting for just her for so long.

And that large hole in his heart had now been filled, as well. He was just so damn happy, for the first time in a long while. The loneliness had gotten to the point where Ted just couldn't bear it anymore; and it was getting worse and worse, leaving him more jaded and hopeless as time went on.

But, thankfully, she had finally found her way to him. Just like Stella had promised.


	6. Lighthouse

_And this is the penultimate chapter of the "Before & After" series. One more to go! Hope you enjoy this one; had quite a bit of fun writing it, admittedly. There's mention of one of my other stories, "Epilogue: 2024", so reading that may fill in some gaps. Happy reading!_

* * *

><p><em>2014<em>

* * *

><p><em>She said yes. She said yes!<em> Ted cried inwardly as he hugged Tracy, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, unable to let go, the early autumn air—and the coolness from the high altitude—enveloping them.

He couldn't quite believe it. Well, he _could_; the rational side of him knew that Tracy loved him, that she saw a future with him. But the other part of him—the irrational, scared semblance of a man inside of him that had been put through the wringer time and again—had been scared shitless. Putting his heart on the line was nothing new to Ted; he'd done it far too many times, with one wrong girl after the other, and he'd always been left with his heart being stomped on. And it was never a pleasant feeling.

Yet with Tracy, he knew his heart was taken care of, finally cradled, sheltered and protected. His heart was hers to keep, for the rest of his life, and he knew it was in good, capable hands. Ted was happy, from his ears all the way down to his toes, that Tracy was the last woman who was going to possess his heart, and the only woman he'd ever give himself to this fully.

Sure, he'd proposed to a few other women in the past—more than Ted was proud to admit—but this was different. With both Stella and Victoria, he merely proposed because he loved them at the time, yes, but mostly because he was scared to lose them. But he wasn't asking Tracy because he was scared she'd walk away and wanted a reason to keep her around; there was a security with Tracy where he knew she wasn't harboring feelings for an ex-boyfriend or that she'd get intimidated by his friendship with Robin. She was in it with him.

No, he was asking her simply because he was deeply, hopelessly, irretrievably in love with this girl (and that love was reciprocated), and that a future _without_ her just didn't make any sense.

He felt Tracy's arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, a damp cheek pressed against one of his. He let out a breath as he pulled her closer to him, if them being pressed any closer was even possible, overcome with emotion. Sure, he had occasionally gotten despondent about his lot in life, worried that he'd never reach this moment. But he also knew, through late-night conversations with Tracy where she'd open up and be vulnerable with him, that she also never thought such a day would ever come. After Max, dreams of marriage and kids seemed to die along with him in that car crash, her future looking bleak and lonely. (Her words, not his.)

Ted was so happy to give this to her, to allow her to feel love again, to have hope. And she had given him hope again, too. He figured they were both very messed-up souls who had finally found one another. And even though it was a coincidence at first, proposing to her the day after her birthday, the anniversary of Max's death, seemed like the perfect time to give her a fresh start.

He pulled back reluctantly, his hands moving to her hips, looking down at her glistening brown eyes. He reached out a hand and wiped at her tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"C'mon, being married to me won't be _that_ bad," he teased. "I put my dirty underwear in the hamper, I'm okay at sex, and I make above-par waffles, so a lifetime together will be bearable, I promise."

Tracy burst out laughing, moving her hands to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping at his own moist eyes. "I _guess_," she said, sniffling. "Try not to hog the remote too often, and I think we'll survive the next 60 years or so."

"I can't make such a promise," he joked, pulling away to look out into the distance, admiring the red, orange and gold colours in the trees, the choppy waves of the Long Island Sound, the squawking sounds of seagulls overhead... He sighed happily; it was a pretty serene moment.

Tracy seemed to be thinking the same thing: "It's real gorgeous up here," she exhaled in wonder. "You sure know how to pick a romantic spot, Ted."

"Only the best for you," he murmured quietly. "I love you, Tracy. I know you're probably getting tired of me saying this all the time, but you make me so ridiculously happy."

She offered him a smile, her soft eyes growing warmer. "And I—" she began, but then Ted noticed her face blanch slightly, and Tracy quickly grabbed on to railing and threw up over the edge.

One hand quickly grabbed on to her hair, holding it away from her face, while the other rubbed at her back, Ted gently running his fingers up and down.

"You ok?" he asked her when she was done, standing back up to look up at him sheepishly. "Unless I should take that as a hint?" He had concern in his voice, but wagged his eyebrows teasingly.

Tracy laughed shyly and wiped her mouth. "Not a hint, no," she assured him. "But I'm alright. I don't know what happened there."

"How do you feel?" he asked her, smoothing down her hair.

"A bit queasy," she admitted, her hands at her stomach. "Maybe it was something I ate at breakfast?"

"I knew the lobster Eggs Benedict were a bad idea," he said disapprovingly, ready to go down to the restaurant and give the chef a piece of his mind. "I mean, who the hell mixes shellfish with eggs, anyway?!"

Tracy put a reassuring hand on his chest. "Calm down, pooh bear," she told him. "Let's just go back to the hotel."

Ted smiled. "There's champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries waiting for us in our room," he told her. "I was hoping for some celebrating this afternoon, but let's just get you some tea and put you to bed, huh?"

"Hey!" she told him, holding up a finger. "I can do without the champagne, but we are _not_ forgoing engagement sex, Mosby! We'll just go slow. Real slow." She paused. "We just won't rock around too much, ok?"

Ted laughed warmly. "Lazy, leisurely sex it is, then," he said approvingly. "Let's go."

As they walked away, Tracy looked behind her one last time, guilt in her eyes. "I feel bad for whoever has to clean that up later."

Ted smiled smugly as he followed behind Tracy down the steps. "Curtis will wash down the rocks, don't you worry," he assured her, his hands on her shoulders. "That's right: he now gets to wash _my fiancé_'s puke from the base of the lighthouse!" He was oddly proud of the fact.

Tracy laughed. "Despite your juvenile beef with Curtis—which, for the love of God, has to stop—I love hearing you say 'my fiancé'."

"Well, you're in luck: I kinda love saying it, too."

* * *

><p><em>2025<em>

* * *

><p>"How many more steps?" whined Penny, huffing and puffing dramatically.<p>

"Not too many left," Ted told her.

"Why couldn't we go somewhere closer to the ground?" Luke asked, clutching on the banister, pulling himself up the steps.

"We're almost there, guys," Tracy assured them both. "And you know your dad loves coming to the lighthouse, so bear with him."

The Mosby clan were in Farhampton for the weekend, enjoying a family getaway in honor of Ted and Tracy's fifth wedding anniversary. Or so Tracy thought; Ted had actually organized a vow renewal ceremony, bringing her back to the place where he had first proposed to her.

Penny and Luke were both in on Ted's plan, clearly. Their grousing, however, he did not appreciate.

They finally made it to the top of the lighthouse, the kids letting out sighs of relief, whereas Ted and Tracy just smiled at each other and then looked out into the distance. Time and again, the view always felt like they were traveling back in time. And standing there, Ted was certainly transported back to that moment almost 11 years earlier when he had first asked Tracy to be his wife.

Remembering the reason they were up there in the first place, Ted cleared his throat, ready to get his plan into action.

"So, kids," Ted began, looking down at them. "Have I ever told you that this lighthouse is a very special place?"

"No, dad, you did not," said Penny robotically, reciting her lines.

Ted sighed. They should've rehearsed a bit more.

"Well," he continued, slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "This is the exact spot where I first asked your mom to marry me."

"Didn't you also once hurl over the edge, dad?" asked Luke.

Dammit, they were going off-script.

"Where did you hear that, young man?" he demanded.

His son shrugged his shoulders. "Uncle Barney told me," he answered.

_I'm gonna kill Barney_, Ted thought. "Well... your mom threw up off the edge, too!"

"Cool!" cried Luke.

"Gross..." Penny let out.

"Hey!" said Tracy, smacking Ted on the chest. "I was unknowingly pregnant with our daughter at the time, so you cannot use that anecdote to throw me under the bus like that!"

"Anyway, back to my story," Ted said, repeating his last line: "Ahem, so this is the exact spot where I first asked your mom to marry me." He discreetly gave the kids a pointed look.

"No way, dad!" they breathed out in unison, feigning amazement.

Tracy seemed to notice that something was up. "I feel like I'm part of a real bad improv sketch," she said, looking down at the kids amused, and then up at Ted quizzically. "What's going on?"

"I swear, it'll all make sense in a few moments," he assured Tracy. He then looked back at the kids: "Do you guys want to see how I did it?"

"Sure!" they said.

Ted turned to face Tracy and gave her a sly grin. She still looked as puzzled as ever, as Ted took her hand and removed the wedding band from her finger, following that up with her engagement ring.

Ted got down on his knee, and looked up at Tracy, a soft but confused look on her face.

"So I got down on one knee," he recounted. "I was so nervous. But I began with, 'Tracy McConnell, will—'"

"Actually, honey, you were _so_ nervous, you forgot to say my name," she reminded him teasingly.

Ted blushed. "You are correct. So I began with 'Will you...' and your mom couldn't even let me finish before she said—"

"Yes!" Tracy said and began laughing.

"You didn't even let me..." he continued.

"Yes!"

"Marry me?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!" she said, Ted amazed that she still sounded as enthusiastic as she did back in 2014.

They both stood up and kissed passionately, laughing against one another's lips, ignoring Penny and Lukes groans of disgust.

Ted slipped the engagement ring back onto her finger, but kept the wedding band, safely tucking it into his jeans pocket.

"Um, babe?" Tracy said, her fingers reaching for his pants. "My ring?"

He shooed her hand away. "Actually, honey, that's the thing: you're not getting your ring back until tomorrow."

If she was confused earlier, Tracy was simply baffled now. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyebrow arched in suspicion.

Ted looked over at Penny and Luke. "Kids, do you want to tell her?"

They paused for dramatic effect before excitedly announcing: "You're getting married tomorrow!"

Tracy's gaze went from their kids, who were happily jumping up and down, to Ted, who couldn't contain the huge smile on his lips. "What on earth did you do, Ted?"

Ted was delighted that his wife just seemed positively floored by this bit of information, her eyes wide in surprise, her lips curling into a smile. "I just thought it was time we had a real wedding," he explained, moving closer to pull her into his arms. "One that took a year to plan, and not one that was thrown together in just three days."

"Babe," she chided him softly, clasping her hands behind his back. "You _know_ I loved our wedding, right? There really was no need for a do-over."

"I know," he assured her, his voice a low whisper. "I swear, I do; and it was one of the best days of my life. It's just, we've been married five years, and I almost lost you last year..."

Ted thought back to that cancer scare, which forced Ted to briefly contemplate a life without Tracy; it was a thought that frightened him to his bones. And it was what prompted him to plan the vow renewal, a chance for them to re-assert their love for one another, an opportunity to appreciate the fact that she was still with him.

His wife laughed lightly. "Ted, every time you mention the fact that you nearly lost me," she said, also in a hushed tone since the kids didn't have any clue about that week-long scare in February of 2024. "You practically have me with a full-on diagnosis and in a hospital bed. It was _nothing_; it was a benign cyst, and I am perfectly healthy."

He had to admit, he tended to get a bit maudlin ever since that day, but the fragility of life had suddenly become tangible, reminding him that anything could happen, that either one could be taken from the other, just like that.

"You _are_ healthy, and I am _so_ very grateful for that," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "Which is why I wanted to do this. It's simply a celebration of our love. You _know_ ours is the greatest love story ever told."

"I think Marshall and Lily may fight us for that title," Tracy warned him, her fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt.

"I'll have my boxing gloves ready," he joked.

She laughed. "So, before you take on our best friends, want to tell me the plan for the weekend?"

"I'm glad you asked! We have a large dinner with all our guests tonight, a rehearsal dinner if you'd like to call it," he explained. "Then, tomorrow morning, you have a massage, makeup and hair appointment with your maid of honor, before our wedding at 5pm."

"Aw, who's my maid of honor?"

Ted pointed at the kids. "Say hello to your maid of honor and my best man."

"You guys helped plan this?" Tracy asked, touched. She crouched down and pulled them into a hug, kissing them each on the top of their heads. "Oh, my Lucky Penny, my little Skywalker... I love you both so much."

"Love you, mom," they said, squeezing her tight.

Tracy stood up and looked over at Ted. "And _you_," she said, poking him teasingly in the chest with her finger. "I know you can never resist a grand romantic overture. I love you for that."

"And I love that you love that," he said, practically cooing, grasping at her playful finger.

"_Dad_," Penny whined, averting her gaze. "You promised you and mom wouldn't be dorks."

"Just go to the other side of the lighthouse," Ted told the kids, his eyes still on Tracy. "We're about to get even dorkier. Isn't that right, Tracykins?"

"That's right, pooh bear!" she purred, exaggeratingly rubbing her nose against his.

Penny and Luke groaned and stomped away, Tracy calling after them, "Keep your hands inside the railing!"

Once they were out of earshot, Tracy looked at Ted. "Tracykins?" she asked, amused and unimpressed.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. "It was the only cheesy nickname I could come up with on the spot!"

Tracy giggled and pressed herself closer to him, allowing her hands to linger on his backside now that the kids had run off. "So, what's the sleeping situation like this weekend? I mean, after the ceremony tomorrow—"

"Marshall and Lily got a two-bedroom suite, so the monsters are staying with them for the next three nights," he assured her with a grin.

"Oh, thank God!" she breathed out, kissing him again, fervently this time.

Ted reciprocated her kiss, hungry for her, happy with the last 12 years together, their five years of marriage, and the many many years ahead. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of Tracy. Sure, marriage was rough. There were a few bad days alongside the many good ones. They needed their alone time occasionally, and there had been disagreements and fights, of course, with passive-aggressive comments and all. But the quarrels always ended with regrets and apologies; neither were ever too proud to apologize. After all, unless either of them had fucked up majorly, they couldn't stay mad at each other for too long.

"Mmm," Ted mumbled against her lips, fighting the urge to press her up against the glass behind them. "I can't wait until tomorrow night, when I can just peel off your dress and—"

"Oh my God, a dress!" Tracy said worriedly, pulling away, her hand at her mouth. "What am I going to wear tomorrow?"

"Don't worry: Lily went through your closet and picked something out. Something tasteful, sexy and wedding-appropriate, I promise," he told her. "She'll drop it off in our room later."

"I can't believe you planned this whole thing out, honey," she told him softly. "I mean, I'm not surprised, but still amazed."

"The invitations, the food, the flowers, the cake," he listed out. "And doing it all behind your back was exhausting. Lying to you is _not_ easy."

Tracy shook her head in amazement. "I love you, Galactic President Superstar McAwesomeville," she told him as sincerely as possible, given the silly nickname.

Ted beamed. "And I love _you_, Galactic First Lady Superstar McAwesomeville," he said. "I love the way you bring music and life into our home. I love that you know how to bring me down a peg or two when needed. I love how you love our kids. I love how you love me."

She smiled shyly under his gaze, moved by his words. "And I love how you've got the dorky dad role down pat," she told him, the affection in her voice, undeniable. "I love your long stories, even if the kids don't. I love your silly fun facts. I love your Sunday morning waffles. And I love how you're looking at me right now."

God, he wanted to marry her right this second. He'd marry her again and again and again if he could. "Come on: let's get this wedding weekend started!" he told her. "I think our friends and family have all checked in by now."

"Wait, is _that_ why you rushed us up here before we even had the chance to go to our room?" she asked.

"Pretty much," Ted confirmed. "Everyone we love was starting to pour into the inn, so I had to get you out of there. I'm surprised you didn't notice Robin and Barney crouched behind that giant plant in the lobby."

"You know, I _thought_ I spotted Beth through a door, but thought it was ridiculous she'd be in Farhampton, so I just figured it was her doppelgänger," she told him.

"The fact that your first thought went to 'doppelgänger' is why I love you so damn much," he said, amazed, kissing her again. "Let's get the kids and head back down."

Tracy closed her eyes, and hugged Ted close. "No, no, no! Stay here. Just a few more minutes of serenity before—"

"Moooooooom!" cried Luke. "Penny threw my Ninja Turtle over the edge!"

"He was annoying me!" Penny belted out in defense. "Are you finished, dad?! I'm hungry!"

"_And_ we're done," Ted said sadly, glancing over at his wife with an amused look in his eyes. They both sighed, took one last longing glance out into the distance, before walking over to where the kids were fighting.

"Lucas! Penelope!" called out Tracy sternly.

"Kids, you guys know this is an important weekend for your mom and I!" Ted said. "You promised you'd behave. Keep this up, and we're giving your best man and maid of honor roles to Uncle Barney and Aunt Robin!"

"Noooooo! That's so unfair!" said Penny as Tracy ushered her down the stairs.

"We're sorry, dad. We're _real_ sorry!" Luke cried, looking up at Ted with regret in his voice as he marched down the steps behind his sister. "_Pleeeease_ don't make Uncle Barney best man!"


	7. Booth

_Well, we've made it to the final chapter! Came about sooner than I thought it would, but I'm happy with the result. (Plus, it means I can now focus on my holiday fic, which should hopefully be up before Christmas!) Thanks to everyone who followed along, for your feedback and support. I'm definitely touched; this fic idea came about unexpectedly, but turned out to be one of my favourites. Hope you all enjoy this one; it hopefully caps off this series on a fitting note. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p>2005<p>

* * *

><p>"Guys, isn't she <em>amazing<em>?" Ted said with a sigh, as he watched Robin walk away towards the restroom.

Lily rolled her eyes as he ogled her departing figure, she and Marshall exchanging amused but worrying looks.

"Bro, she friend-zoned you," Barney reminded him, taking a sip of his scotch. "Forget about her. Focus your attention on the sea of other women in this city; in this bar, even. I mean, check out those double-Ds in the corner booth. Dibs and dibs, by the way!"

"I'm telling you," Ted insisted with a shake of his head. "I'll continue laying on the charm until I turn that 'no' into a 'yes'!"

"Ted, you need to face facts," Marshall told him. "Robin isn't "the one" however much you think she is. Just let her be part of our gang without any pressure, and look elsewhere for your happily-ever-after. I promise you, she's out there."

The five of them had officially been hanging out together at the bar, Robin slowly integrating herself into their group, for the past week. And for that entire week, Ted couldn't keep quiet about how amazing and awesome and beautiful Robin was, even though the two of them had agreed to be "just friends".

Ted was entering dangerous territory, Lily thought. He truly went overboard by telling her he loved her on their first date. And then there were the three straight days of parties, interrupting Marshall's studying, simply to get a chance to talk to her. His new obsession about getting married and having kids had found a target in the first pretty woman he happened to lay his eyes on. And it was bound to blow up in his face.

Not that she wasn't grateful that Ted had met Robin and brought her into their lives. Lily was ecstatic to have a fellow female enter their testosterone-laden group. Finally, a girlfriend to confide in, go out for drinks with! Aside from some fellow teachers, and the female halves of a few couples they knew, Lily didn't have any friends she could see herself having some one-on-one time with. And she knew, with Robin being new to the city, that she could use a good friend, too.

She and Robin had definitely gotten close in the short time they'd known one another. So she couldn't have Ted's feelings for her ruin what could possibly be a wonderful friendship. And if ever they dated and broke up, it would certainly ruin the group dynamic. She couldn't let that happen.

"Lily!" Robin said excitedly as she returned back to the booth, sitting down next to Ted. "I bumped into this girl in the bathroom who mentioned something about an Agent Provocateur sample sale going down tomorrow. Didn't you say you wanted to look for some wedding night lingerie?"

_This_ is why she needed a girlfriend, and why Robin was succeeding in that role already.

"Uh, yeah!" she said, practically squealing. "Marshmallow, you ok to spend time with the guys tomorrow?"

"If it means checking off another thing off our wedding check-list _and_ you wearing something for my eyes only, I think I'll survive," he assured her, giving her a kiss.

"Thanks, baby," she cooed, then looked back at Robin. "You, me, coffees and a few hours in line. You in?"

"Not a fan of long lines," Robin admitted. "But throw in a box of donuts, and I'm in, girlfriend!"

_Yeah, I can't led Ted ruin this_, Lily thought, determined.

And she knew Ted would get his heart broken. Badly. He was now looking at Robin with eager, puppy-dog eyes, laughing exaggeratedly at one of her jokes.

Lily hated to admit it, but Robin seemed a bit too good for him. Or, at least, incompatible. Ted was a dreamer, a romantic. Robin seemed more sly and no-nonsense, her attitude and sense of humor more biting than his. Of course, she still had a simplicity and niceness about her—she _was_ Canadian, after all—but she had a bit more of an edge.

In fact, as Barney made a snide jab about Canada, and Robin retorted with her own biting remark, Lily had to admit that _Barney_ seemed like a more suitable match for her. Lily then shook her head and laughed inwardly; Barney Stinson committing to just one woman would _never_ happen.

Although, despite their incompatibility, Robin seemed to like Ted as much as he liked her.

"I _really_ like Ted," Robin had admitted to her right after they met. "He's a great guy: smart, successful, nice... But we want different things; he seems to want to go on a path that's in the opposite direction from mine. It just wouldn't work between us."

Lily could hear the regret and wistfulness in her voice. But she was certainly better at hiding her emotions than he was. She seemed more practical, and was suppressing her feelings in order to do what was best for Ted's lovestruck heart. And to perhaps protect her own in the process, too.

She watched them now, Robin giving Ted a warm smile, and he flashing her a wide grin, practically beaming at the attention she was giving him. Lily knew, however, that pushing one's emotions and desires deep down wasn't healthy. Robin would probably give in to her feelings, breaking down that wall she'd built, eventually succumbing to one of Ted's grand gestures.

Much like Ted, she was bound to get her heart broken.

But maybe they both needed to get their hearts broken a little bit. Maybe they were somehow meant to meet and make a mess of things, and learn something from the experience. Maybe Robin could learn a thing or two from Ted about opening her mind to love and romance and, hell, maybe even marriage someday.

And Ted certainly had to go through a few ups and downs before settling down. He wasn't going to meet "the one" simply by deeming himself ready to be a husband and a father. He was nowhere near prepared for all that, Lily knew.

He had a long road ahead. And that journey, likely filled with many bumps and hurdles, joy and tears, hardships and lessons, are what were going to make Ted Mosby a stronger, smarter man. A man who would finally be ready and able to give out all his love, time and focus to one woman for the rest of his life.

And Lily knew that whoever this girl was, she was going to be one lucky lady. Because Ted was good and honest and the best friend she and Marshall had ever known. And he deserved only the best, too.

* * *

><p><em>2014<em>

* * *

><p>"It's <em>so<em> good to be back!" Lily sighed happily as she slid into their booth at MacLaren's, laying her head down on the table and spreading her arms out on its surface. "I've missed you _so_ much!"

Marshall chuckled as he sat next to her, and Ted shook his own head—although Lily spotted his wide smile, ecstatic about their return Stateside—as he took the seat across from them.

"Well, the booth has missed you, too," Ted said as Lily adjusted herself into a proper seating position.

She smiled, then gazed over at Marshall adoringly. It really was wonderful being back home. Italy was amazing, the experience of a lifetime, but Lily had missed the familiarity of Manhattan: their friends, the apartment, the sounds and smells of the city and, yes, their booth, which held so many memories and good times.

It was their first visit to the bar since returning home. Right after their arrival, they had immediately run off to Farhampton for the weekend for a group getaway, and now—after settling back into their apartment and calling up friends and loved ones to tell them they've made it home—they were able to hand off the kids to Mickey and enjoy a Friday night at MacLaren's like they used to.

Well, not _quite_ like they used to. Because their gang now had a sixth member. And not a fleeting member like many of Ted's ex-girlfriends; this one was permanent, officially initiated into their little group and everything.

Lily loved Tracy, accepting her into the gang eagerly, much like she had with Robin nine years earlier. It was pretty easy: after befriending her over the wedding weekend, Lily knew this girl was something special. And when Ted ditched Chicago for her, she knew that Tracy was different than all the other women who came before her.

And she was excited to get to know her more fully now that they were in the same city. It's one thing to occasionally chat with someone on the phone over the span of a year or hang out with them in a vacation setting over the weekend; it was another seeing them daily, enjoying a cocktail together, going shopping, sharing secrets, or simply hanging out at the apartment with a boardgame or over some wine and cheese.

(Of course, Lily and Marshall were very happy that Ted had found his soulmate. It meant they could _finally_ have double dates together and do other couple-y things, since Barney and Robin had been not-so-discreetly ignoring their invitations. The Eriksens weren't stupid and they had gotten the hint. Eventually.)

Speaking of Tracy, she had now walked into MacLaren's, her eyes immediately gravitating towards Ted, smiling wide, before looking over at Carl and giving him a friendly wave. The normally crabby bartender gave her a grin, and the two of them started to have what seemed to be a very friendly conversation.

"Should I be offended that Carl wasn't that warm to me when we walked into the bar, even though I haven't been in here in over a year?" Lily asked, looking over at Ted. "All I got was a head-nod of acknowledgment."

Ted laughed, and looked over at Tracy. "She has a tendency to make friends wherever she goes," he explained proudly. "It leads to the occasional free drink, too, by the way."

"Sorcery!" Marshall cried, unconvinced. "No one _ever_ gets a free drink at MacLaren's! No one!"

"Tracy does," Ted told them matter-of-factly.

"Something's afoot," Marshall muttered, shaking his head. "Witchcraft clearly must be involved. Ted, has your girlfriend ever spent some time in Salem, by any chance?"

Ted looked at his best friend strangely. "Um, she has a couple of cousins who live down there, I think..."

Marshall looked over at Lily with wide eyes. "Baby!" he whispered to her. "_Accidentally_ spill some water on her later and see what happens!"

Lily placatingly patted her husband on her shoulder, her stare focused on Ted.

Ted was gazing at Tracy, a smile playing on his lips. He definitely looked and acted different than he did a year prior; he was sitting with his back straight, his arm casually hanging on the back edge of the booth, an air of calmness and confidence to him.

It was that same self-assured attitude that she saw when he dismissively waved off Marshall's words of caution about waiting three days to call a girl, nervously asking her out over the phone a mere 24 hours after meeting her, but leaving to chat with her, all smiles and composure and optimism.

And it was the same confidence she saw in Farhampton, when he and Tracy announced that they'd decided to move in together, not a shred of doubt in his body language and his tone, evidently ready to take that next step in their relationship.

That confident attitude, one that Lily hadn't seen in the longest time, suited him quite nicely, she decided.

"Hey, guys!" Tracy said cheerily to her and Marshall, and slid into the booth next to Ted. "Are Barney and Robin on their way? Six beers are coming up, on the house."

Marshall looked over at his wife. _Witch_, he mouthed.

Lily smirked. "She definitely has _someone_ under her spell, that's for sure," she whispered, nodding her head in the direction of the couple across from them.

"Hey, you," Tracy was saying softly, gazing at Ted lovingly, and leaned in to give him a few pecks on the lips.

"Hey," he murmured, reciprocating her kiss, a hand in her hair. He pulled away reluctantly when Carl showed up with a tray of six beers.

"Here you go," he said happily, placing the frosty mugs on the table. "Tracy said you guys were back from Italy, so the beers are on me. Welcome back!" He flashed Lily and Marshall a smile—a first in, well, ever—then winked at Tracy before heading back behind the bar.

And at that moment, Robin and Barney walked up towards the booth, hand-in-hand. "Free beers, again?" Robin said teasingly, sliding into the seat next to Lily. "Thanks, Tracy!"

Tracy shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as Barney sat down next to her. "I do what I can," she said, smiling shyly.

Lily happily looked around the table, glad that things weren't awkward between Ted, Robin and Barney, as it had been prior to the wedding. And she was happy that Tracy and Robin had built a rapport, a close friendship that Lily had witnessed in Farhampton the previous weekend, filled with friendly glances, gentle ribbing and inside jokes.

She had admittedly been jealous at first of the friendship she saw between the two. It was a whole year where Robin had a new girlfriend to confide in, where she could've easily forgotten all about her. It was an irrational fear, of course, as Robin and Lily had easily fallen back into their friendship without missing a step. And adding Tracy into the mix was an easy transition, too; they made a pretty damn good trio.

"Hey, Lily," Tracy said, taking a sip of her beer. "I was actually wondering: do you want to come by my place tomorrow night? I'm starting to clear out my closet before this one moves in next month, and I have to cut down on my shoe collection. You can have dibs on a few pairs before I donate the rest to a woman's shelter. I was thinking you and Robin can both come by, we can blast some music, blend a few margaritas... Make a night out of it!"

Lily beamed. This was another reason to love having Tracy in her life: they had the same shoe size, as she had always hoped!

"I'm in!" said Lily excitedly. "And, ohhh, we can go dancing later! My dad's open to watching Marvin and Daisy tomorrow night, too, and I sure could use some more nights out." Lily had to admit, being a parent to two kids was exhausting. She was definitely grateful for her father's help, and she had decided to not feel too much guilt about needing some more time to herself, or alone with Marshall, or with her friends.

"Cool!" Tracy said. "Any dance club in mind?"

Lily looked over at Robin and grinned. "Joe Blows!" they said in unison.

Tracy laughed. "The gay club? Yes!" she said happily. "I love it there! Just dancing, no handsy guys."

"Exactly," Robin agreed. "And our men love it there, too."

"Their egos get stroked," Lily explained to Tracy.

"And those aren't the only things that the guys there attempt to stroke," Robin added teasingly.

Barney adjusted his tie and Ted smugly fixed his shirt collar. "What can we say?" Ted sniffed cockily. "Gay guys love us."

"_And_ I get to enjoy fruity cocktails without being judged!" Marshall exclaimed happily.

"Be sure to ask the bartender to mix you up some Robin Scherbatskys, then," Tracy said, giving him a wicked grin.

Marshall gave her a cold stare. "Tracy, now that I'm back in town, I'd appreciate if you'd refer to it by its proper name, the Minnesota Tidal Wave, from here on in," he said coolly, then shot a glare in Robin's direction.

Ignoring Marshall's comment, Robin simply shifted in her seat. "Hey, um, Marshall, did you happen to gain some weight? Because this booth is feeling a little bit tight."

"Yeah, my ass is half falling out of my seat," said Barney, and then looked at Tracy. "McConnell, sit on Teddy's lap. I need some more room, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind, judging by the stiffy he's sporting. And bro, c'mon, this is a classy place."

"Dude!" Ted sputtered, blushing as Tracy scooted closer to him. "There isn't any more room. Just pull up a chair!"

"There aren't any more chairs, _Ted_!" he said, gesturing around the bar. "The place is full!"

"Robin, how could you say such a thing?" Marshall was now crying in a high-pitched voice. "I ate a lot of pasta, so I'm a bit sensitive about my weight. _You_ try living in Italy for a year without gaining 15 pounds!"

"Dude, I'm just saying: you alone are hogging about half this banquette," she told him.

"Quit it with your fancy-schmancy French, Robin!" Marshall said. "It's called a _bench_!"

Lily smiled, reaching for her beer, letting everyone's bickering wash over her. She really missed this. And as the fighting turned to laughter, and everyone clanged their mugs, she observed her little family, smooshed together but clearly happy. Robin had reached her arms across the table to grasp Barney's hands, leaning her body forward to murmur something salacious his way. Tracy was whispering something in Ted's ear, which he was listening to with rapt attention, seemingly amused by her private words. And Marshall was sitting next to Lily, holding her hand and giving her a look that pretty much said, "It's good to be home."

Home, of course, had many meanings to them: New York, their apartment, each other and the kids, their present company, and even their little red booth at MacLaren's. And sure, with an extra person, evenings spent in said booth were likely to continue being this cramped. But it was a problem Lily was happy to have.

"Well, guys," she announced, giving Marshall's fingers a tender squeeze. "It's official: we're going to need a bigger booth."

_END_


End file.
